


Always There

by redpantsandjam (fullonzombae)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, post tsot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 12:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7684309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullonzombae/pseuds/redpantsandjam





	Always There

There were silly things she'd done - stupid things, even. That time she'd foolishly asked Sherlock if he wanted coffee, hoping he'd catch the hint and accept. That time she’d watched Tom fall to one knee and pull out a diamond ring, only to accept his proposal, despite how she resented the choice she was making. She had known she he wasn't the one from the day he'd asked her out for that drink. It was a simple enough feeling, but with time, she had hoped she could find a way to love him.

Apparently not, she thought, as she lay in a strange bed, searching her bag for her engagement ring. After all, if you love someone, you don't fall into bed with a man you've only ever considered a friend. And you certainly don't spend the weeks before hand, fantasising about the way his lips may feel against your skin.

Greg's lips, it transpired, tasted of whiskey and lemonade, mixed with toothpaste and a splash of wine. Entirely her fault, she thought, as she pulled away from the kiss, finally closing her fingers around the ring at the bottom of the bag. "Found it," she whispered, pulling the ring out of its enclosure, slowly sliding it back onto her finger. Greg responded with a huff as he laid down once more, and even in the dim light, she could tell his mouth had settled into a firm, displeased line. Of course, she had promised not to mention Tom, and tonight - last night, whichever it was - she had kept to her promise, his name having not entered the air that separated her and Greg once .

But for all the excitement of the night before, the way she truly believed that she could still feel Greg between her legs if she closed her eyes, she couldn't shake the sense that she had utterly betrayed Tom. It wasn't that he was deceptive - such as a certain Jim - or that he was cold. Far from it. Instead, he was the warmest person she knew and she had betrayed him, the evidence seeping from her cunt.

"Don't marry him, Molly."

The words were a whisper from beside her, and as she reached for her bra, she looked towards Greg, her face set in a confused frown.

"I thought we weren't going to talk about him."

"We’re not. We're talking about you."

She felt a finger trace along her thigh, a circling pattern upon the expanse of skin that she inexplicably hated. Was it too late to sue Sugar Magazine for a host of body issues? Or should the blame lie with More? But somehow, Greg's fingers felt as if they belonged there, as if anyone who had touched her before was irrelevant.

"You wouldn’t be happy with him. He'd bore you, embarrass you, and my god, he'd mute you." Greg punctuated his thoughts by inching his fingers slightly higher up her thigh, sitting up and pressing  a kiss to her shoulder. "You'd become that stay at home wife, whilst his friends girlfriends and wives congratulate you on finding a man who willingly changes a nappy. He wouldn’t bond with the kids, he'd always be that little more uneasy around Sherlock... "

"And who said we'd be having kids?"

"... I didn't say that anyone said it. But... Look. I'd be surprised if it never happened. And you would make one fantastic mother, Molly Hooper. But he would make the most dire husband. Not a bad one. Just dull."

Molly gave him a withering look, before sighing and laying back against the pillow. As Greg's lips met hers, she closed her eyes, parting her legs as she pulled him closer.

"What, and you think I could do better?"

He trailed a kiss down her chin, her head tilting back as his hand slipped over her thigh, claiming it as his own as a finger inched - followed closely by three more - closer towards her cunt. As one finger brushed against her clit, she tangled a hand in his hair, resenting the fact it was closer cropped than she liked. Now, she was left with bristles that she smoothed her fingers over affectionately, before her hand came to rest on the back of his neck. "Of course you could."

He pressed against her thigh, his cock slowly hardening, and Molly reached own, stroking him slowly as his lips met hers once more. Three times so far - she had straddled him in his armchair, her knickers pushed to one side as his fingers had pushed deep inside her, fucking her to the brink of an orgasm. Just as she'd edged towards her climax, he'd pushed her onto the chair, burying his face against her, his tongue working against her clitoris as she came. His face had been soaked with her juices as he kissed her, and Molly truly believe it was the most erotic thing she had ever experienced.

"How?"

"Do you really need me to answer that?"

She nodded, her hand still stroking him, rhythmically, still coaxing him back to that length she'd taken last night as she'd been woken by the feeling of his lips on her neck. She waited on an answer, unsure it would ever come as Greg pulled back, kneeling between her legs as he stroked his length once more. He had lined himself up to enter her,  but Molly raised a hand, before scrambling to all fours, taking his cock in her hand. As she closes her lips around the head of his shaft, he tangles a hand in her hair, watching as her head bobs. Molly, for a moment, thinks of Tom during these moments. Passive, selfish and unresponsive, despite the praise he'd heap on her afterwards. Oral was a one-way street, and if Tom came, that was the end of it.

A hand curved over her arse, and Molly let out a moan against Greg’s cock, pushing back against his hand. He parted her lips, rubbing a finger against her once more, before thrusting in with a force and purpose that - in six short hours - Molly had come to love.

"Stop," he whispered eventually, and Molly pulled back, looking up at him as she rose to her knees. His fingers slowly dragged back from her cunt, before he placed hem against her lips, letting his mouth fall into a silent 'o' as Molly fellated his fingers, almost hungrily. With that, he pulled her closer, his mouth falling to her breast, encircling her nipple as he bit down gently. A quiet, needy gasp escaped Molly, and she rutted against his length one more, before sinking down, taking it deep within her.

She rode him, desperate to reach another climax, his grunts of pleasure against every inch of skin that he could reach. Eventually, Greg stilled, pulling Molly right against him as he came, a finger rubbing against her clit as he dragged another orgasm from her. A final buck of his hips, and he felt her come, his semen, slowly dripping from her. God, this was something he could never bore of.

 

* * *

  

She returns home to find Tom still asleep, and Molly knows what she must do. Grabbing a suitcase, she begins packing, thankful that she still has a sister to go to, and countless friends. Sometimes, loving someone and having them love you in return isn't enough. Sometimes, she tells herself as she sits at the breakfast bar, pen in hand, you find someone you can love completely, yet never truly fall in love with them. And sometimes, you realise that what you want - what you need - has been say in front of you, for years. She leaves a note for Tom, before deciding against hit and dropping the paper into the shredder. She might have cheated, she might have let him down, but he doesn't deserve the indignity of a hastily scribbled note and the engagement ring left on the kitchen table.

As he shuffles through to the kitchen, a scruffy haired, 10am mess, Molly sits at the table, her face buried in her hands as she braces herself. As she tells Tom she's leaving him, she watches the way he shatters before her. She resents that she can't do this without hurting him, and as she presses her ring back into his hand and kisses his cheek, she wants to tell him; "One day, you'll make some girl very happy. You'll be everything she ever wanted. And I'm sorry. That girl isn't me." Her words go unspoken, and she tells herself that now isn’t the time for tired old clichés.

She doesn’t watch the tears fall as she collects her suitcase. Instead, she makes her way from the maisonette, finding herself making her way to the tube. Tonight, she'll stay at Lizzies's. Mourn how close she came to her fairy-tale ending, and reminisce on the times she had hope things might work between her and Tom. But on Mary's FB page, in Mary's wedding photos, an anecdotal piece of evidence shows an imperfect relationship, shows how Molly had been so natural, so close to Greg, so distant from Tom. She had never meant for things to end this way. And in a moment of judgement, she sends a text to the number saved into her phone under "DI Lestrade."

"Last night was great, but it's best I don’t see you for a while."

 

* * *

 

 

As she paces the hospital, a familiar voice catches Molly’s ear. She's been waiting hours for news of Sherlock's condition - a gunshot... How the hell could he be so reckless? She no longer cares that she'd spent the last hour crying, weighing up the odds. Of course, the official mourning was left to John, holing a bedside vigil under the pretence that he had never let Sherlock down. Burying her face in the familiar coat, a sob echoes against Greg's chest as he wraps his arms around Molly, a kiss pressed gently to her forehead. She knows Greg can't promise Sherlock's safety. She knows he can't change the odds. But for a moment, there's that glimmer of hope as it feels as if everything may turn out alright.

He returns with a coffee for himself, a cappuccino for Molly. Of course, he hasn't headed to the much loathed vending machine, but instead, he's trekked over the Starbucks that sits on the corner of the road, ordering a cup of frothy that tastes just the way Molly takes it. It's been a long wait so far. Hours. Torturous long hours. But a sip of her coffee, and the feeling of Greg's fingers amongst hers - reassuring and safe - for now makes Molly believe that everything may just survive.

Maybe.


End file.
